


Every Breath You Take

by Rovioletlily



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-12-26 13:21:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rovioletlily/pseuds/Rovioletlily
Summary: Collection of Thramsay short stories.1: Ramsay won't let him die.2: He knows his time is up when his dreams begin to bleed into reality.





	1. 1; [1/2]

**Author's Note:**

> [PART 1/2]
> 
> Ramsay won't let him die.

  _Theon takes in a ragged breath, curls in on himself._

_"In this state, you're practically begging to be put out of your misery."_

_He inhales once, twice, before doubling over even more and coughing. He tells himself not to focus on the bloody cut on his cheek; after all, it barely stings compared to the fresh brand on his arm. And the brand is not as terrible as the rusty pain in his throat that makes it difficult to breathe. And the pain in his throat is not as consuming as the pain down there, the pain that makes it so he can't move without feeling as if his insides have been torn apart. If he keeps concentrating like this, letting himself focus on something else, he can keep convincing himself that none of this really is so bad, that he barely hurts._

_"You'd like it if I just left you in the basement, wouldn't you, and let you rot."_

_It really could be worse, he reasons with himself. He could be lying outside, shivering in the snow, instead of curled on a couch in a warm house._ Really, this isn't so bad. 

_"Are you going to look at me when I'm talking to you, or are you going to ignore me like an ungrateful bitch?"_

_At that, Theon lifts his red-rimmed eyes to stare directly at Ramsay Bolton._

_"That's better," says Ramsay, a slow smirk creeping up even as he feigns anger. "I was beginning to think you'd fallen asleep on me." He cocks his head, almost curiously, as Theon continues to gaze at him, like a child examining a dog that has just done something interesting. "You would never be bored of me, would you, pet?"_

_A bitter smile nearly forms on his face before his jaw aches in pain. Theon can't muster up the energy to sit upright and feign enthusiasm. "Never, Ramsay," he says hoarsely, and if it were not for the crack in his voice, the nearly hysterical edge that appears when he says his boyfriend's name, he reckons he could even fool himself._

* * *

Five months later, while sitting on the front steps, he wonders why Ramsay cares so much about him.

_Because you're mine. If you ask that again, I'll rip out your tongue and feed it to the dogs._

A faint, exhausted part of him knows that Ramsay does care. The same part that knows Ramsay would not bat an eye if Theon were to lose a toe but would snap if someone else were to rest their hand on his arm. _He does care_ , he tells himself, stifling a yawn, feeling the skin underneath a fresh brand stretch and tear as he rocks back and forth. _He does_. 

_But - I don't._

In his dazed state, the thought drifts around in Theon's mind for nearly a minute before he comes to his senses and banishes it. He has fought tooth and nail for the past few years to keep moving, to survive, to move past his mundane existence because he always knew he was meant for greater things. No, he couldn't make it to a top college like Robb did, no, he couldn't do anything the Starks accomplished so effortlessly. But still..

Even now, when all he knows is Ramsay, all he worships is Ramsay, all he _thinks_ is Ramsay, he can't tell himself he simply doesn't care about living any more. He's not someone to consider dying so young, not someone to entertain ideas of suicide.

He tells himself this resolutely several times and lets it settle comfortably in his mind. 

Then he closes his eyes and imagines how it would feel to stop breathing. 

* * *

It begins in subtle ways. 

Ramsay notices two weeks later, when he stalks up behind Theon washing the dishes. "What are you doing?" he breathes, his arms encircling Theon easily. "Don't think I haven't been noticing you throwing out most of your food."

It's funny how he seems to care. Half a year ago, he'd come up behind Theon in the exact same way, his arms hugging him from behind. Just like how it had been before, with a warm, soft voice murmuring into his ear. Comforting. Lulling. 

_You should cut back on your meals, pet. You wouldn't want to stuff yourself and make yourself unhealthy, would you? Yes, I do think so. Half of the portions sounds lovely, pet._

"Only because I want to fix myself for you," Theon murmurs, nearly surprising himself with how easy the words come. He isn't sure when this happened, when he gained the ability to conjure lies as easy as breathing. His words aren't really lies, though, because they are what Ramsay wishes to hear, and what Ramsay wants to hear must be true. 

Ramsay presses light kisses to the deep purple bruises ringing his throat. "I'll decide when you need fixing, pet, not you." And the threat lingering in his voice would be more effective if Ramsay wasn't smiling all the while. Theon smiles a ghost of a smile too, the side of his mouth barely moving, while something deep down inside of him crumbles a little more. 

* * *

It's when Theon fails to react when Ramsay threatens to pay Robb a visit - that's when he finally realizes. Even though familiar nausea rises up at those old threats, he fails to shed a single tear. His mouth opens and closes, but a strangled, beseeching cry does not escape. He tries, of course, he tries to beg Ramsay to change his mind, but it sounds listless and forced. It feels as if they're making the same rounds again, and they're both just acting out a part of a play. He can even see how it ends. The fear for the unknown, the love for Robb, everything that Ramsay held in his hands and could control Theon with - those feelings are just echoes now. 

Ramsay ceases his ranting and grabs Theon's wrist, tugging him close. "What the _fuck_ is up with you?" he demands. "You don't care if Robb drives off a cliff tomorrow now, is that right?" He grabs Theon's chin when he tries to look away. 

He protests, of course, but Ramsay's harsh stare melts those words away. Ramsay lets go of him, sneering in disgust, and watches Theon stumble backwards. "Are you sick?" he demands.

And Theon smiles another ghost of a smile, his dead, hollow eyes nearly showing a flicker of sadness. "You could say that."

He gets a backhand for his vague answer, but no matter how Ramsay threatens and snarls, he cannot make Theon elaborate further. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to everyone waiting for updates from my longer works. I lost motivation a while back to write and hoped that these short, 1k~ chapters would help me get back into writing. They're all based on one sentence summaries and should be read as snippets out of Ramsay/Theon's life. 
> 
> Most of these should be oneshots, at the very most 3 chapters for a summary. Please forgive the plot and setup, this is what came out when I decided to write something without scrapping paragraphs after a page or two. Hope you enjoyed!


	2. 1; [2/2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [PART 2/2]
> 
> Ramsay won't let him die.

He had half expected Ramsay to keep demanding answers. But instead, he stormed out, leaving him alone in the house. 

Theon waits for the familiar, shuddering anxiety, knowing Ramsay must be giving him time to come up with an explanation. He has done this in the past. Once near the beginning of the relationship, when he dropped Theon at a park an hour away from their house at the dead of night before driving back home, to let him reconsider his choice to call Jeyne, and several times after, locking him in the basement and leaving him alone for hours when he wouldn't admit he'd been sneaking out to visit Robb. But though his hands tremble, his mind is clear. 

It might even be better this way, if Ramsay decides to throw him in the basement. He just has to stamp out his instincts of self preservation for a few days, he just has to.. he swallows. He is too cowardly to choose death by starvation. He is too cowardly to want to die alone in an abandoned park. 

_Then, let Ramsay do it. While he's so enraged, let him finish it. And you can die in his arms, he'd like that. It's fitting._

_He can't threaten to kill Robb if you're already dead._

His thoughts dissolve in hysteria. He'd thought a few months ago that Ramsay would never hurt him on purpose. 

* * *

  _"Theon," Ramsay murmurs, caressing his face. "What did I do to deserve you?"_

 _"No, what did_ I  _do to deserve_ you _," Theon corrects, feeling a blush light up on his face nonetheless. For someone to take him in, give him food, shelter, love, everything - it made him giddy at times. If his friends were still around, they'd be jealous he'd ensnared someone so easily.  It'd only taken two dates before Ramsay had confessed his adoration, five dates before he'd moved in._

_Their foreheads touch. Ramsay places a chaste kiss on his lips, barely breathing, as if Theon is someone who could disappear any minute._

_"You're.. everything." The admission falls from Ramsay's lips like a prayer. It tugs at him, allowing a deep, aching love to rise from the wasted heart of Theon Greyjoy. "You're everything to me."_

_And an hour later, when he's slammed against the door with Ramsay's fury, he unfurls the memory and holds it close to him. No matter how his cheek burns, no matter how his teeth chip - it doesn't change anything, it doesn't change that he is Ramsay's everything._

* * *

It was easier, before, for Ramsay to find ways to punish him. When Theon couldn't understand and still believed him to be someone who was rational, sane. When Theon couldn't realize what Ramsay wanted to hear, when he still talked as himself. But the Theon he was before is now hidden, and the Theon Ramsay wants unfurled in his place. His old self, locked away somewhere even he can't find it. And his new self, composed of cracks spreading so rapidly it's a miracle he hasn't pitched himself off from the third floor balcony. 

And - he's _tired,_ now. 

* * *

"Just let me go," he murmurs as Ramsay kisses him that night, hungrily as he always does. "I don't want this any more."

Ramsay pulls away, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. "Do you have to fucking ruin everything with your whining?" he asks roughly. "Are you saying I'm wrong in choosing you?" 

"I'm finished with this," he barrels on, ignoring the anger beginning to simmer in Ramsay's eyes.  _If he snaps -_ "I think.. I think we should end this."

_Slap me. Punch me. Whip me. Brand your mark into me so deep I pass out. Lock me in the basement for a week and let me scream myself hoarse. Take me so violently I can't move for the rest of my life. Use me one last time._

He entertains these scenarios as if watching on as a spectator, and all the while, Ramsay stares. 

"You want to.. leave?" 

He nods, he dares to nod. He waits for a fist to come out of nowhere, for Ramsay to shove his face down on the pillow and take him from behind. Instead, he surges forwards and kisses Theon again, hungrily. And Theon would pull away, but his mouth is so soft - he melts back and lets Ramsay ravish his mouth until he's breathless. He moves to his neck, his shoulder, biting gently. When Theon tries to protest, Ramsay clamps a hand over his mouth and continues anyway. 

When he tells Theon to turn over, he expects Ramsay to drive in, to fuck him senseless. Instead, his thrusts are gentle, unbearably slow. "Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do," he tells him as Theon arches and lets out a cry. "You're not going anywhere.  _I'm_ not sending you anywhere." He pauses, laughing breathlessly, meanly, as Theon claws at the blankets. He drapes himself over Theon, as if trying to get closer to his muffled whimpers. Music to his ears. "You really thought I would _end_ you?"

His vision goes white, he comes crying Ramsay's name. 

"I'm not going to let you die."

He holds Theon close, holds him through the shivering and the tears that finally spill. 

"I'm tired of this." The words are faint. "I'm tired."

"I know," Ramsay soothes, "I know." He is gentle, taking the care to smooth Theon's hair. He is a solid presence, inescapable. 

 _No, you don't. You don't._ _I'd rather it be you than me. I can't do it myself. Please, do it for me._   _I don't want to go on, you can find someone better than me, someone who wants to play your games, someone who wants to endure. Someone who isn't entertaining ideas of jumping off a bridge._

He nearly says it. Nearly. 

But in Ramsay's warm embrace, feeling him pressed up against his body, Theon can't muster up the strength. Ramsay kisses his forehead, a final act of kindness, and his poorly composed willpower seeps away like water, like it was never there. 

* * *

He waits for Ramsay to drop the act. He waits for threats, he waits for anger, he waits for a _game_. He waits for something that he will not survive. 

He nearly cries in frustration when Ramsay brings him to the sea. He doesn't want this gentle Ramsay, he wants the one who will break him so savagely he won't ever be able to piece himself back together. 

He expects Ramsay to snap, but he never does. 

* * *

Ramsay closes the door after making sure Theon is sound asleep before going downstairs to get a drink. He pauses in surprise when he sees his father sitting at the couch, thumbing through a paper. 

"Father," he says, the word dripping with false pleasantries. "I wasn't aware you had a key to my house."

"The Greyjoy boy," Roose says, ignoring his greeting. "Why have you not disposed of him yet?"

Ramsay smiles, baring his teeth, holding back his rage. His fucking father, always trying to get in the way. "He means the world to me, didn't you know, Father?" he croons instead, stepping forwards. Roose's eye twitches briefly as his demented grin broadens. "I would rather see your company burn to ashes and have you leave me with nothing to inherit than let go of Theon Greyjoy."

_I've saved him from the Starks, I'll save him from himself._

Maybe once, he would've taken Theon to his cabin, taken him on a hunt. But he has carved Theon away, carved into him so deeply he has left a piece of himself in Theon. And he'll be damned if he's letting him slip away. He knows Theon is waiting for him to change his mind, for him to bring out a knife, to end it all.

But there is nothing Ramsay loves more than a game, and right now,  _this_ is the game he is willing to play, for as long as it lasts. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if that didn't end as you all expected! ><
> 
> Leave it to Ramsay to take Theon's lack of will to live and treat it as a challenge.. as a game.


	3. 2; [1/3]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [PART 1/3]
> 
> His time is up when his dreams begin to bleed into reality.

Theon is fine with pretending. 

He has always been _fine_ , wearing an easy smile and giving roguish winks to those shy, fluttery girls. So it is easy for him to make a crude joke or two when Robb Stark bursts into their home one day, waving around a notebook wildly and crying in delight "I've found her." It takes no effort at all for Theon to sidle by as his wingman, to give him a nudge and some whispered encouragements when Robb finally approaches the girl of his dreams. It is laughably simple, and he watches in satisfaction as recognition lights up in the girl's plain almond eyes and the two of them vanish together. 

It is fine. 

Then, only after he drives himself to their apartment and composedly returns to his room, does he slam his fist against the wall and let hot tears spill down his face.  

He hoped against hope for years that he'd see Robb in his dreams, that the black hair he saw from behind would lighten into a shade of dark brown. He hoped that Robb would look at him with that blush, that blush that would admit  _you're the one I've been dreaming about all my life._ He hoped and kept hoping, even when Robb made no mention of a  _boy_ in his own dreams and only talked excitedly of the girl that would linger just outside his vision. 

That night, he curls up and begs for a dreamless sleep. Theon isn't in the mood to see flashes of his soulmate, he tells himself, he just wants some rest. 

A mean little voice murmurs,  _But of course. Now that your final hopes of Robb Stark as your soulmate have been ground to dust._

He drifts into a fitful sleep, and when he opens his eyes, his vision is tinged with red. He is back in the club that he left Robb and that girl in, only blood red disco lights have replaced the multicolored ones from before. Music pounds loudly, and yet the sound is muted. Everyone is dressed in black, but for a single man standing still in the center, somehow untouched by the wild, drunk dancing around him. 

"You," he murmurs, and begins pushing his way through the crowd to get to him. Maddeningly, the man does not turn around; Theon squints and focuses on that thick, black hair and crimson red suit. "Hey, soulmate," he calls out, a derisive tone in his voice. "Look at me, I know you know I'm here."

Just as he is a few feet away, almost able to touch the man's shoulder - 

Theon jerks awake to the sound of the front door opening. Almost instantly, giggles fill the apartment, followed by a quick  _shh_. "My roommate's sleeping," he hears Robb whisper. "Come on, I'll show you through."

He pushes away that slight disappointment of being so near to his soulmate.  _If it's not Robb Stark, it shouldn't be anyone,_ drifts the familiar thought. 

He doesn't get much sleep that night, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Theon tries to tune out the noises with earbuds, but nothing can stifle the sound of Robb and his soulmate making love. 

* * *

"Morning," Robb beams, his hair messier than it has ever been, eyes slightly bloodshoot, but with a grin as blinding as the sun. 

"You look satisfied." Satisfied is an understatement; Theon has never seen Robb this radiant before - at least, never around him. He pushes away the familiar hurt. "Is she still in your room?" 

"Still sleeping. Gods, Jeyne is _perfect._ I had no idea I could have so much in common with her."

Theon busies himself with the dishes, pretending not to listen as Robb continues his praises of a girl he's only known for one night. When he gets to Jeyne's backstory, though, Theon turns. "And you got this all in - what, three or four hours? Weren't you more preoccupied with.. something else?" He smirks suggestively and turns back around as Robb stammers slightly. 

"Well, a lot of this she's been leaving me in a notebook. You know, the one in school, that she kept putting at the same desk." He hates to admit he  _does_ know, that he's been keeping track of every single one of Robb's dreams for years. "Gods, her  _voice_ , she's like a goddess.."

Theon wants to leave this room, stab Jeyne with the fork he's washing, and then stab himself for being such a jealous prick. 

* * *

"A school? Well, this is a downgrade."

Theon whips his head around as he hears the voice, a voice he has never heard before in his life and yet sounds eerily familiar. The stilted amusement, the subtle drawl.  _Soulmate_ , he thinks, and rises to his feet cautiously.

"It was better before. A club, a football field.. why are we back to  _school_ when you've graduated from high school years ago?"

He turns and something sharp lodges in his throat, something that steals his breath away and only allows him to stare at the man sitting on top of the desk behind him. 

He is all edges, from his jaw, to his single earring, to the tone of his voice. He radiates cold, his cool gray eyes frighteningly impersonal. He couldn't be more different than Robb - and yet, his heart skips a beat. His traitor heart aligning him with this soulmate he's destined to be with, even though he knows nothing about him at all. Theon swallows down the sudden thrill, forcing himself to look unimpressed. "If I could have it my way, I'd be on a cruise, not in a classroom where I failed four tests," he retorts back. 

That gets a laugh. They are both silent for a moment as they observe each other. 

"Ramsay," the man finally says.

"Theon." He holds back his practiced  _I've been waiting my whole life to talk to you in my dreams, Robb_ and instead a bitter, strangled laugh rises up. Ramsay doesn't comment on it, barely reacting.

He gets off the desk, strolls towards Theon. "May I?" he murmurs, leaning in, and Theon holds back a shiver. Ramsay is shorter than him by a few inches, but somehow he has the urge to shrink down as Ramsay touches his face softly, as if examining a sculpture. "I've been waiting a while for this," Ramsay confesses, their faces inches apart. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were running away from me before."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were letting me," Theon bites back. Despite his initial unease, a small part of him is looking forwards to getting to know his soulmate.  _Maybe it's time I stop obsessing over Robb and let fate take control for once._

Ramsay falls silent. Then he grins easily, a grin almost alarmingly wide. He leans in until their foreheads nearly touch, and Theon steps back instinctively. "Of course I was. Did you really think you could actually hide from _me_ in your dreams?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, a soulmate AU where you meet your soulmate in a dream every night. Should be two parts in total.


	4. 2; [2/3]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [PART 2/3]
> 
> His time is up when his dreams begin to bleed into reality.

It isn't something that dawns on him at once. 

He doesn't wake up one day and instantly understand, nor does the realization strike him like lightning when he is eating or showering or running. Instead, the gnawing feeling transforms from a vague confusion to an uneasy discomfort before finally settling into numb horror. In fact, if it wasn't for waking up with his hands shaking for a week straight, he might have stayed firmly planted in uneasy discomfort for the rest of his life. 

He almost - he  _has_ \- punched a wall so many times because of Robb's unawareness. He paces back and forth in the bathroom, willing his hands to stop shaking, as he curses himself for being the same. 

Two months. Two months in total of falling asleep and seeing flat gray eyes. 

Two months with gentle, quiet moments. Two months of Theon bringing Ramsay to a waterpark and laughing as they run around like children. Two months of Ramsay feeding Theon fries and sundaes as he drops his life story in bits and pieces in a secluded diner. Two months of them pressing close in the casinos and watching money rain. These are the moments where Theon's heart flutters as he hears a murmured  _I've been here before - but it's never been this enjoyable until I met you._

Two months with unsettling, confusing moments. Two months of Ramsay tracing Theon's scars as they recline on a couch, of Theon gritting his teeth as Ramsay presses too hard on them, of them nearly breaking apart as Ramsay bites his skin with enough force to make him bleed. Two months of backhanded and barbed compliments nearly seeming unintentional but for the way Ramsay's eyes gleam after he delivers them. Two months of Ramsay chuckling and pressing in with a gleam in his eyes as Theon makes a fool out of himself and gets small injuries through activities like biking. These are the moments where Theon's heart stutters as he hears a whispered  _I forget how lovely you are when you're in pain, but you seem quite keen on reminding me every night._

And.. two months with shuddering, _please-make-it-end_ moments. Moments that he cannot think about without violently twisting his hands and clenching his eyes shut. 

 _I was never a quick thinker._ Theon settles down for some toast as he hears Robb shuffling around, willing his hands to stop quivering. 

If he was, he would have realized he began to dread falling asleep long ago. But instead, he mentally danced around the issue, pushing it out of his thoughts or chalking it all up to general nervousness. 

He realizes some subconscious part of him tried to avoid Ramsay, starting a month ago.

He stopped sleeping regularly so they would only meet for a few hours or none at all. He didn't expect Ramsay to adjust his sleep schedule to spend more time with him. He wasn't surprised when that didn't happen. But he _was_ surprised when Ramsay grabbed his arm in a vice like grip and physically threatened him into sleeping normally again. He woke up that day with a phantom ache from down below, his body only just beginning to understand what Ramsay was capable of. 

He stopped bringing up plans for them to meet in person. When he first found out they lived only three hours apart, he was ecstatic and wouldn't shut up about the day they'd see each other face to face. Now, on the occasions where Ramsay mentioned it, he would pretend to think and admit he already had plans for a certain day, whether they were made up or not. 

He stopped.. everything. He stopped asking questions and only answered those that Ramsay asked in case he touched on a sore subject. He stopped smiling so widely - stopped smiling at all - in fear of Ramsay thinking he was mocking him with his grin. He stopped pressing in and lay there rigidly in bed in the chance he acted too cocky. He stopped feeling like himself and instead became some watered down version of Theon Greyjoy, one who did not speak unless spoken to and one that would cast his eyes downward when Ramsay came near. 

"Theon," he hears, and he whips his gaze up far too sharply. He grins a bit sheepishly when he sees Robb staring at him. "You've been staring at your toast for five minutes." Robb himself has an empty granola bar wrapper in his own hand. 

"Fine, I'm fine, just tired." 

"Don't sleep too late. I can see shadows now - " Robb pauses as his phone buzzes. "Ah, sorry, I have a movie date with Jeyne and it's starting really soon. I have to go." A flicker of jealousy burns into being as Theon watches Robb dash out, leaving his granola wrapper on the counter, but it is muted, faded. 

Theon swallows dryly and forces himself out of the house with an effort. He runs a few miles at the gym and tries to relax at the swimming pool. But no matter how fast he moves, his muscles feel like sand. 

He feels ashamed as he gets into bed that day and sets an alarm for twenty minutes later.  _I have to do this,_ he tells himself.  _If only for my own sanity._

Tentatively, Theon opens his eyes and feels a little more at ease when he sees the familiar diner. Ramsay sits before him, languidly picking at his meal. "Trouble falling asleep?" his soulmate questions, setting down his glass and leaning forwards. 

It took him over fifteen minutes to drift away. Exhaustion and fear of Ramsay fought, but exhaustion eventually won. Theon's eyes dart away, left, right, down. "Not at all," he says hoarsely, and he senses rather than sees Ramsay stiffen slightly.  _He knows you're lying. He knows you're a dirty, filthy liar and he's going to take you to his room and teach you and whip you -_

"Oh, pet," Ramsay laughs, his hand reaching out to grip Theon's chin, forcing his gaze up. "Relax. It's a special day." 

"Is it?"

"My father is out of town for the next few weeks." Just as suddenly as he grabbed Theon's chin, he lets him go and Theon edges back in his seat, relieved. "You can drive down tomorrow morning to my home, and now that he's out it should be fine to stay over, even though you haven't met him."

He is suddenly overwhelmingly relieved he set the timer for twenty minutes.

"I can't," he falters, wishing he can melt back into the seat. "No, I can't, Ramsay, please."

_You said no. You said please. You're doing this on purpose, trying to make him mad, it's like you like being hurt, it's like you want to be punished._

"It's too soon," he nearly sobs, his voice cracking. He bows his head, shoving his hands under his legs to make them stop shaking. "Just.. a few more weeks, Ramsay. I don't think I'm ready yet for us to meet in real life."

" _I_ think we've been ready since the day we met," Ramsay purrs back, unshed laughter threatening to break out as he takes another bite of his food. He doesn't know why it seems funny. Maybe it is because he has reduced Theon to a mess so quickly with only two sentences.

Theon is ready to cry if only to ask to delay this a bit longer. Ramsay is already part of Theon already, irreversibly. He knows this, but he has taken comfort in the fact that Ramsay has never _physically_ been with him. The burns, the aches, the pain, it might linger in his mind but none of it physically remains. "It doesn't suit you to worry too much, you'll hurt your head from thinking."

_Agree - agree with him, he's being generous and giving you a way out. He's ready to forgive you, just say the words, he's being so generous -_

"No, I don't think so." Theon stands up and some bare, scraped away feeling of pride rises a bit at him staying strong. "It's too soon, I'm really glad you offered but I would rather wait."

"Theon," his soulmate grits out quietly. "I'll pay for your train ticket, you won't have to pay a penny." His voice drops an octave. "You were so eager earlier.  _Ramsay, I wish we could eat together for real in my favorite restaurant. Ramsay, I wish we could fuck in my actual room._ Are you playing hard to get now? We both know how that ends."

He does know. He recalls ashes in his mouth and a burning in his cheek and then awful stillness. 

"No, I'm serious Ramsay. Let's decide when to meet up next time."

"Next time?" Ramsay stands too, danger coiling up. "We're going to discuss right now, pet - "

"Something's up with my sister," he blurts out, and steps out from the booth and dashes out of the diner. 

"Theon!"

He knows it is no use to run in this dreamworld, that he might make some distance but Ramsay need only wait until he is out of sight before appearing again. He doesn't care. In his mind's eye he sees that twenty minute timer ticking down. Fifteen minutes to sleep, he only needs five minutes. Only a minute or two more - 

He hears footsteps behind him and just as Ramsay's voice bears down on him, a loud ringing echoes in his ears. Quickly, he clamps his eyes shut tightly and when he wakes, he is on the floor in his room. Sweat drips down his back, but his feet do not ache nor does he feel tired from running in his dreams. Theon leans against the edge of the bed, his heartrate gradually slowing. No more sleeping tonight. 

Slowly, he drags himself outside of the apartment and paces around, feeling his thoughts trip over one another. He isn't sure how he'll face Ramsay the next night, but it comforts him to some degree that he's delayed this. Ramsay will see he is serious and back down. 

_You're so fucking stupid if you think he will. Have the last few months never happened? Do you forget what occurs in your dreams right after you wake up? Fucking stupid, you won't even admit it to yourself. Stop lying, stop being a fucking coward -_

He clamps down those thoughts, hating that Ramsay's judgements mingle with his own. 

Robb blinks in surprise when he sees Theon sprawled on the couch watching reruns of Sherlock. "Have you been up all night? I didn't hear a sound," he muses thoughtfully. "I'd join you if I could."

"No, it's fine," Theon waves off. "You've had a long week, you should go meet up with Jeyne before we've lost this weekend." He hides his bitterness well, he hopes. He always thought he hid all his feelings well, until he met Ramsay. 

"Been with her for ten hours, Theon, I can wait a few more minutes." His expression turns contemplative and Theon braces himself for more questions before the doorbell rings. He hides his relief by turning his gaze back to the screen, feigning interest. "Oh, Jeyne's early." Robb's voice brightens, he turns and hurries for the door. 

Theon turns up the volume so that he won't have to hear them kissing, he won't have to hear them  _loving_. Though he stares as hard as he can at the show, he listens attentively for the sound of the door closing. 

When he hears footsteps again, he doesn't bother to look around. Most likely Robb back to grab his keys, or Jeyne to drop off some homemade food for the two of them. 

The footsteps stop right behind him. Theon still doesn't turn, feeling his patience slip a little. If Jeyne doesn't hurry up to the kitchen, he'll force them both out - 

"Nice show," Ramsay comments casually, and Theon feels as if he has just been stabbed through the ribs with an ice dagger. This voice has been in the back of his head, this voice has been in his dreams. This voice has followed him everywhere, and it hits him like bricks when he realizes his soulmate is with him in real life. "Well, it must be wonderful if you'd prefer finishing it to spending time with me."

He swallows down a hoarse cry. In his dreams, at least the mind games had to end at some point. No matter what, he would always wake up. He would always have the rest of the day to himself, he could avoid Ramsay until the next night. 

"Oh, there's no escape. She dies after, they're too late," Ramsay whispers, and Theon wonders stupidly how Ramsay can read his mind until he realizes Ramsay is talking about the show. "Spoilers! Ah, well.. I don't think you'll be watching the rest for a while, so might as well have told you."

His soulmate keeps talking, but the words do not register.

_No escape. He can find me in my dreams, he is with me in real life. No escape -_

His panicked thoughts grind to a halt when Ramsay rests his hands on his shoulders from behind. Theon does not dare move or turn or utter a sound. 

"Now, let's play."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to finish this in two chapters but had some more ideas come up~ 
> 
> Still nowhere near ready to getting back to writing a full length story but I think I'm getting there. ^-^ It might be too early to say but I'm already feeling differences with my writing from a few weeks ago. Everything is getting more coherent, the details are actually advancing the plot, etc.


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